Emotions of a Night
by Karen Hikari
Summary: It's been a while since Medusa was defeated, but years of fear and abuse aren't errased so easily. Reflection on how I imagine a night would have been if Chrona had ended up leaving with Maka and Soul.


This idea popped out suddenly. I really love Crona and decided to contribute a little to the fandom, seeing as no-body had used this idea before!

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_Emotions of a Night_

He yawned, stretching to look up at the clock. One and a half in the morning.

Jeez.

He had been studying for Dr. Stein's exam since ten o'clock and he still wasn't sure to remember a quarter of the things he was supposed to know.

True to tell, he usually didn't study as much, because, sincerely, whose idea was it to put on a bimonthly exam a question about the inner parts of a cockroach's egg, when they had never in their lives seen any of it?

But . . . Dr. Stein was Dr. Stein and he thought everyone knew those completely useless details.

And Shinigami-sama kept saying that "it was good to know about other living creatures" and that "every life was worth investigating". Yeah, whatever but why in an exam? And why, oh god why, in the exact same exam Maka had chosen to bet him he couldn't get a grade other than C?

It was true that for him, a C+ sounded as good as an A, but for Maka . . . that was a s-h-a-m-e.

And of course she couldn't live with him having C's and his stupid pride wouldn't let her go on with that, so he had decided to prove her that if his grades weren't better it was because he didn't want them to be, not because he couldn't do it better.

But sure as hell he wouldn't let her see him studying. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction to see him worried about getting the complete notes and asking and putting up a fuss because what Dr. Stein would ask was long and useless–that was the reason he was reading his notes at one in the morning.

He yawned again before he got to his feet and walked to the light switch to turn it off.

And then he heard it—a dry, frightened, pain-filled scream.

Maka!—was his first thought but almost as fast did he remember that she wasn't even at home right then; she was at Spirit's because of his birthday or something, and although Maka had been reluctant to, in the end she had agreed to go spend the night with him.

He strained to listen a little better and realized that the scream had been followed by scared muffled whimpers.

And if it wasn't Maka—that only left Chrona in the house other than himself.

The girl had moved in soon after they'd defeated the Kishin because Maka had said it was in no way sane that Chrona lived in the same tiny, cold room in which she had been kept as a prisoner. Besides, in Maka's words, she needed help and support and if she was left alone with Ragnarok . . .

He had no problem with it, though Chrona had been too scared to accept the offering at the beginning–but it was Maka the one that was asking something from her, she couldn't deny anything to her.

It usually meant no problem having the Meister living with them—she was too timid and quiet to cause any trouble, and she hardly ate anything. The most exasperating thing –for him, at least– was how often she was too scared to even talk or move, or when she just sat trembling in a corner and wanted to shut everything other than mumbling to herself out–but it was understandable, so he never made comment over it.

Now, though . . .

He slowly turned the handle and cross the apartment, making it to the plain white door that was Chrona's.

He called once, and instantly the sobs inside went quiet. Maybe he should go, he thought, maybe she really didn't need any help with whatever was making her life more complicated, maybe she just needed to be left alone, probably–

No. The last time he had thought she just needed her space because all her emotions were too overwhelming for her Medusa had taken control of her again and obliged her to betray whole Shibusen.

He tried calling once more, but his answer was the same. "Chrona?" He asked. "It's just me. Soul. Need any help?" No, you stupid, he thought, she's just crying in the middle of the night because it's fun, of course she needs help!

Yet, the room now seemed perfectly quiet. Good, what was he supposed to do now, break down the door? No, probably just open it, said a mental voice. Chrona didn't seem the kind of person who would lock the door at night.

He took the handle. "I'm coming in, alright?" Of course, he received no answer, so, cautiously, he started to turn it, until the door laid open.

There was only pitch darkness inside, at least until he got used to it.

After a minute or so, he identified the tiny figure that hugged her legs to her chest tightly, her head dropped over her knees in a position that made her look completely helpless. She seemed to be trying to get a hold of herself, but it made her seem even more forsaken.

Poor girl, he thought.

"Chrona? Can I help you in something?" He asked, trying to make his voice sound gentle; still, his words only made the girl stiffen from hair to toe and start trembling. She didn't rise her eyes to meet his gaze.

He dared to enter the room, unsure if he should come in, but in the end, he decided he had already opened the door, if he fled now, it was likely that Chrona misunderstood his actions as a signal that he was disgusted by her.

He stood beside the bed, Chrona shaking barely a few inches away from him; yet, he was not sure what he should do now that he was inside the room and had the girl next to him. Should he wait for her to say something to him? Hug her? Just stay there? Tell her it was alright? Wait a minute . . . he didn't even know what was the problem; had it been dream, a memory? Asking what was happening seemed as good as anything else, perhaps even more logical.

"What's wrong?" he inquired, in an even voice, trying to not scare her further, yet, she didn't seem to listen. "Chrona?" he repeated, and this time a tiny nod came as answer; well, at least she was paying attention. "Was it a nightmare?" he ventured.

She denied and mumbled something, but Soul couldn't make out the words. "What?"

"I don't know" she repeated, though it didn't make sense now either.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know if it was a nightmare. I don't know anymore." This time, Chrona slowly and shakily raised her blue eyes to meet his gaze. She looked even worse now, even more emaciated, trembling, fear all over her face. He didn't know if he was supposed to pity her or fear her.

Slowly she removed her hands from her legs and placed them in front of her eyes, shrieking; she stared at them; it seemed that her whole horizon were her pale palms.

She saw them, and for her, they were dirty, blood strained, broken and polluted beyond repairing, just like her soul, just like her whole life.

But this time, it was not real blood what her hands had. This time she hadn't really killed anyone. It had just been a dream; but a realistic one, a very realistic one and she couldn't differentiate, couldn't distinguish if it was or not true what she had done. She couldn't even bring herself to say it, it was so bad, so horrible. She was such a bad person.

She had . . . she had killed . . .

"M-Maka?" She asked, her eyes unfocused and dazed and her voice shaky; she was looking at Soul, but she seemed just concentrated in the other Meister. "W-where is she?"

"Maka you say? She's . . . you know, with her father, Spirit."

Chrona nodded, but it didn't seem that she had got the message, since her eyes were still unfocused and her features appeared to be trying to process the information.

All she could think about was how badly and urgently she needed to see Maka. To see her being okay, complete. Alive. To see she hadn't really hurt her.

She wanted Maka. She needed Maka. She was the one who was always beside her at night. She was the one who could make her smile, the who knew what to say, the one who understoodd, the one who could soothe her. But she was not the one beside her this time. It was Soul.

And if she wasn't there... did it mean...? Did it mean she really had...?

"She's fine." Said Soul, with no clue of what he was supposed to say or do, but understanding she needed to hear those words.

The only thing he could think of was trying to copy Maka's actions, but he never paid that much attention to her when she was in a 'comforting mood'. Maybe if he explained Chrona that whatever she had seen was not true . . .

"She'll be back in a moment, okay? You just have to wait for her, do you understand?" He offered, but obviously she was not getting it; she nodded again, but her eyes were not really seeing him anymore.

Jeez, that was not cool. He was tired, he had been reading for the last three hours and now he was in front of a girl that needed to be helped so badly and that was having an emotional breakdown when he had no idea of what to do. And Maka was not there.

God, he didn't want to say it, but he needed her. He needed Maka, if not for soothing Chrona at least for telling him what to do, because he had no experience with any of it, not with crying girls and not with dysfunctional family's kids having nightmares—certainly, not with both of the last combined.

Maka didn't the first time, either, and she probably did it better than you, he thought. Then, that was something inside of her, something she did. Not only for Chrona, but for him also, and for the others; it was something that came naturally to her: helping others, comforting others, it was as unconscious as Tsubaki's gentle acting or as Patty's childishness; it was not something that he usually did. But, looking at the pale girl . . . he did feel something.

He respected her as a Meister because she was strong —she had almost killed him once, after all—, and he appreciated her as a person, because she had gotten up after such a shitty past and she was trying to figure out what to do now. But, none of that was it right now. He just . . . pitied her. She looked so lost and so helpless and so scared. Just like the second time they had fought against her, right after Maka offered her her friendship—which was probably the first one someone had ever been kind to her.

Then, an idea came to him. Chrona just needed something known to cling to, and then she would calm down. At least that made sense; he just hoped it actually worked.

"Everyone has them once in awhile" he began, getting Chrona's attention—which was currently standing to not let herself cry in front of Soul. "Nightmares, I mean. Even Maka" he offered, while her pale blue eyes turned to look at him stunned.

Though he was not sure of his last statement, it seemed something that might make her feel better, since she admired Maka so much. He didn't know if Maka was really having nightmares; though he had noticed the dark circles under Maka's eyes, now he wasn't sure if what kept Maka from sleeping were her own nightmares or Chrona's.

"B-b-but she's so s-strong! And so b-brave!" instead of making it better, he was just surprising her further, which was as good as nothing because soon she'd get started with the 'I don't know how to deal with this' thing.

"But she does have her weaknesses, as everyone. And it's okay. That's what makes us human—being able to rely on others" he replied, copying something he had heard somewhere and that might have as well been Maka's words.

A second later it seemed to go from bad to worst. He could see just how hard Chrona was straining to not let herself have a breakdown in front of him. After a few failed attempts the girl finally could say something.

"I killed her! I k-killed Maka! After all she's done for me I-I-I killed her!" She said, and although Soul could hardly hear her he did listen to the pain and regret in Chrona's voice.

Now he was fairly confused. And then a click in his mind made everything have sense again. She was talking about her nightmare. In her dream, she had killed Maka, and then right after she had woken up, scared and disoriented, and Maka was nowhere to be seen.

It was almost palpable—the moment when she couldn't hold it any longer and tears began to fall from her eyes; tears of anger, of regret, of pain . . . Soul couldn't help but to feel bad for her, while she kept sobbing her heart out, trying so hard to stop crying that Soul could almost feel her failed attempts.

"You didn't, Chrona." He said, his voice calm, but uncertain if that could actually stop Chrona's tears. "You never would. It was just a dream, okay? The real one's perfectly fine and she'll be back soon." Hopefully, he mentally added.

He had done nothing but point out something obvious, but her tears stopped falling—although she continued whimpering—and he could sense that, to Chrona, it meant the world to hear someone other than herself say that. She just looked so defenseless.

It was that same helplessness what made him wish he could do something else for her. She looked just like a kid, so scared, so vulnerable, so . . . needed of kindness, of care, care only he could give because he was the only one around.

Slowly, very slowly, he extended his left arm and let it fall over Chrona's shoulder, as the poor girl stopped whimpering for once and raised her eyes to meet his red gaze, shyly, almost with fear. Fear of that gentle touch transforming into a punch.

Even slower than his previous movement Soul squeezed Chrona's shoulder, easy, and always keeping her eyes in hers, in an attempt for getting her to trust him. Still she flinched and stiffen under his touch. But after a couple of seconds she relaxed against his hand—only when she was able to remember that Soul was not going to hurt her.

It was odd, yes. He would never had imagined he'd be up at two in the morning trying to comfort someone, specially not Chrona, noted.

Yet, the gratitude, the need, the beg in Chrona's eyes made him forget how awkward everything was.

"She ain't dead, okay? You wouldn't kill her" he repeated, since there was not much he could work with and he was running out of ideas. Still, Chrona nodded shyly, an improvement there . . . just before another dry pain-filled sob made it to Chrona's throat and she began crying all over again mumbling "I'm sorry's" to no end as she hid her face in her flexed legs, hugging herself tight.

That was it! He couldn't do it any better. If he was supposed to do something else, he couldn't figure it out. Now, where was Maka when needed?

Something in his head told him that he was just being selfish because Maka had been the one to —though the word sounded harsh— deal with Chrona since the very beginning. After all, if Chrona was calling Maka and asking her for help, it meant one, that she had been there in other occasions and two, Chrona trusted her and believed she could actually help her.

Just then, the front door opened with the squeaky sound of hinges rustling. After all, he still had the tiniest bit of luck tonight: Maka was back, and now she could really stop Chrona's tears once and for all . . . hopefully.

Chrona's whimpering was loud enough to be heard at the very entrance of the house, which explained why Maka made it to the room with such a hurry.

She was wearing a beautiful black dress and a worried look on her face when she entered the room. A look that soon transformed itself into surprise, when she saw Soul was already there.

But almost as fast she redirected her gaze to Chrona, first looking at her with compassion, then with anger.

Still, Soul knew right away that she was not angry at Chrona. She was mad at Medusa, for being mean enough to hurt her child so badly, that even after her dead she was still huanting her. How was it possible to even break someone that much? Someone with a heart as gentle and shy as Chrona's? God, he even dared to say Maka hated that witch, and it was hard for her to really hate someone!

While Maka entered the room, Soul stepped back in a gesture that meant 'She's all yours now.' Maka just nodded, a serious expression on her features.

Maka rushed to sit next to the crying figure and very gently took Chrona into her arms, shushing her. Chrona froze. For a moment it seemed she was trying to avoid her, to jerk away from Maka.

But she was too weak and too scared and she felt so . . . needed of that kind touch, of that care, that she soon gave in and leaned on Maka's shoulder, crying even harder.

"Was it the room again?" Maka asked, quietly, worriedly as she began to rock her gently.

She denied against Maka's neck, and then she began talking, her voice tainted with hurt, with regret, and with fear, all at once.

"I k-killed you, M-Maka. I'm sorry. I'm so-so-sorry." It was hard to say if she was repeating 'so' or if she was just stuttering. "I didn't want to. I-I-I swear."

"No, you didn't, Chrona, okay? I'm here, see?" Said Maka, her voice gentle, sweet. She seemed not to care about what Chrona had just said, she didn't even flinch or seemed surprised at the fact that —even if it had only been in a dream—Chrona had killed her.

"B-but Lady Medusa–"

"No, she's dead, remember? And she's not coming back." she cut her. Maka's voice was kind, filled with patience, the one you would use when explaining something to a child. Yet it was also firm, and for someone as timid as Chrona, there was not a spot for replying. "She's not going to hurt you again, okay? We won't let that happen. I promise." Even if her words were as comforting as they could be, Chrona kept crying hard, while she buried her face deeper into Maka's neck.

Once again, Soul was surprised that Maka didn't appear estranged. It occurred to him that Maka had been through this countless times and she was just expecting what came next. She just continued rocking Chrona and stroking her hair fondly.

Sadly, the idea that it was still unnatural and unusual for Chrona to be treated that way—kindly, with care, as if she were something precious and worth loving, hit Soul at that moment, exactly when he saw how nice Maka was being to her, how out of her usual personality, so impatient and bossy, Maka was acting.

"I'm s-sorry, M-Maka, I–"

"Shh, there's nothing to be sorry about, Chrona, I'm fine." She said gently. "And even if you had actually hurt me, there's nothing I wouldn't forgive you." She added, Maka's words were simple, she hadn't even doubt a little before answering, which only made Chrona let go another suffering whimper.

But, by that time, the poor girl had actually started to believe her.

Maka had never left her side. Sure, neither had the others either, Soul, Black Star, Tsubaki, Kid, the Thompson sisters, Marie . . . But Maka had been the one able to see through her shattered smile and blood lust since the very beginning, the one who had offered her a new opportunity and her acceptance, the one who stayed by her side, holding her and telling her everything was alright on nights exactly like that one, in which the memories from the past were only too close, too alive.

When a couple of minutes had gone by Chrona finally dared to reach for her and clinged to Maka's dress, while the brunette kept murmuring reassurances to her and just tightened her hold around the slender girl.

"M-Maka, I-I don't k-know how to deal with this!" She called out, desperate, notes of urgency in her voice. It was obvious to Soul that under her usual motto laid a 'please help me', an unconscious pleading, probably.

Yet again, Maka just seemed used to that, it seemed that she was almost expecting that to happen.

Probably she was.

"It's okay, you just have to trust me, can you do that? Please?" She asked, smiling tenderly at Chrona.

The girl nodded against Maka's shoulder, but kept crying her eyes out. Although, this time, her sobs were not that sorrowful either. They were filled with fear, with pain, with regret, with sadness, but those were not the emotions of a night's bad dream.

That was the emotional carriage the girl struggled with everyday. The things that over the years she had kept locked inside because there was no point in crying your heart out if no one was there to hold you, there was no point in letting everything out if nobody cared. And Chrona had never had that, never had she had someone to tell her it would be alright while she was being hugged or cared for.

But now she did.

There was someone holding her and caressing her while she cried. There was someone she could cling to and turn to.

There was someone who wouldn't turn her back on her.

And now, she did believe that it was true.

After something that seemed like ten minutes, Chrona finally was able to stop crying. Five minutes more, and she was drifted off again, her hands curled into fists around Maka's clothes.

Maka let go a relieved sigh.

Slowly and very carefully, she got to her feet and removed Chrona's hands from the front part of her dress before tucking her back under the covers, just like if she were taking care of a kid. Once she was done she brushed a couple of bangs away from the girl's forehead, while the love that the girl inspired her shone brightly in her eyes.

Until then did Maka directed her eyes to Soul, who had stayed prudently back, watching while Maka worked out in so little time what he hadn't been able to do in the double of it.

As soon as their gazes met, the air of the room tensed and felt awkward and strangely uncomfortable; there was nothing either of them could think of saying.

After a couple of minutes, Maka finally broke the silence with a half-hearted smile.

"Do you want some tea?" She asked, trying to sound cheerful and happy, though Soul, knowing her as he did, knew she was still worried–but he nodded and followed her out of the room.

"Are you sure . . . ya' know . . . that she'll be okay?" Soul asked, before completely leaving the room.

Maka turned around and smiled sadly, compassion shinning in her eyes.

"It's not likely to happen twice the same night." she replied, and then she added. "This one was not so bad, the real bad ones are the ones where she's back in 'the Black Room' . . . or when Medusa is torturing her again . . ." She grimaced.

"But she killed you" he pointed out, expecting her to now show bewilderment or surprise because, to Soul, the reason she hadn't earlier was that she didn't want to scare Chrona further. Yet, she just nodded.

"The eighth time so far" she replied calmly "she's killed you three times, two for Kid, one for each of the Thompson sisters, and another one for Black Star and Tsubaki. I've killed her, backstabbing her, three times also and you've killed me twice."

When she was done he could hardly believe it. Of course he had thought once or twice of the possibility of Chrona having nightmares, who wouldn't, given the horrible way in which Medusa had treated her for a lifetime? But they lived in the same house and he hadn't once heard her crying, through all those lonely, painful nights—though he wouldn't have been a big help either, as he had just proved.

Also, Maka hadn't said a word about it, and he couldn't help but feel that he was being distrusted by his Meister.

"I didn't know" he made himself say.

"Nobody but me does." Maka explained "Chrona asked me not to say anything about it when I found out. She's ashamed or something; probably she's just scared, I'm not sure, but you know her–she's too frightened to ask for help or to bother anyone."

Of course, it was not a burden, to either of them.

"That's why she was so reluctant to come live with us?" Soul adventured.

"I suppose . . ."

The uncomfortable silence from earlier came back as Maka went into the kitchen and Soul stayed at the dinning-table and during the whole five minutes it took Maka to take out the teapot from a drawer, pour water into it, took the tea leaves from another drawer, mix them up and finally leave the teapot over the stove, the orange blazes shinning in the dim light.

After that, as she sat in front of her friend, Maka couldn't pretend she was busy enough to not pay attention to Soul, and Soul couldn't use Maka's work as an excuse for not asking her the question that had popped in his mind since Maka had entered Chrona's room.

But still . . . it suddenly didn't feel right to ask her about something Chrona hadn't want him to know. Then again, Chrona was only too shy to ask anyone for help, it was not something personal.

"How often does . . . this happen?" He finally dared to ask. Maka let go a sigh that probably meant she had been expecting that question but didn't want to answer it anyways, and her gaze, that was avoiding his eyes by looking through the window, fall to her lap as she fidgeted.

"At least once or twice a week, sometimes even three" she muttered.

Maybe Soul actually demonstrated his surprise in an unconscious gesture or maybe Maka knew him just too well, because soon the girl was adding.

"But it's gotten better. When she first came here, well, I mean, when I first heard her crying it happened almost everyday. At times she didn't even go back to sleep because she feared whatever game her mind would play to her. At the beginning she was so scared she wouldn't even let me in the room."

Silence. Again. And none could think of what to say to the other, which was wierd given the trust they held in each other.

"If that's so, you've done a huge advance" he finally priced, but still none of them looked the other one in the eye.

"You did a great job today, also." she replied quietly. "Thank you."

"She was crying her heart out and I couldn't do anything." Soul pointed out, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but you were there. She was not alone. You cared. That's enough for her." Before Soul could reply anything the teapot sent a horrible squeaky sound and Maka hurried to turn the stove off and pour the green liquid into two white cups, adding two spoonfuls of sugar to Soul's and one to hers, not really noticing what she was doing since she had done it countless times previously. After that, she went back to sitting with Soul.

They felt silent again, but this time it didn't feel as awkward as the previous one. That until Maka broke it, with a hesitant and unsure voice.

"Soul?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think, you know, that she'll be okay?"

"Okay?"

"That she'll ever stop being afraid of everything, having these nightmares?" She asked, while her fingers grappled the cup. So that was why she had sounded so insecure.

Silence again, this time a worried one.

"Maka . . . what Medusa did . . . I don't think so."

"She's scarred for life? That what you're saying?" He replied, her voice almost inaudible.

"I didn't say that!" Defended Soul, trying to convince himself that that hadn't been what he meant but . . . it was.

"No." Answered Maka, in a voice that could hardly be heard "I know you're right."

Right then, the cheerful, joyful, smiling Maka looked . . . defeated, she was hunched in a way that almost reminded Chrona's, her eyes covered by her brown bangs, her hands had left the cup and now were turned fists around the black fabric of the shirt of her dress.

"Hey" he said, wanting to bring her mood up again because he just couldn't stand looking at her like that. "But we are just supposing, that ain't have to be true. She's lucky to have you here." He added, trying to make her understand that the main reason why Chrona was getting any better –or actually, stabler, saner– was her.

"Thank you" she answered, with a tiny voice.

"Maka?" He called, more to get her attention than expecting an answer. "You don't have to take it on your own, you know that, right?"

The brunette finally raised her green eyes to meet Soul's gaze, who grinned at her with coinfidence, sharp white teeth shinning in the dim light, as if being awake at two in the morning talking about their friend's broken childhood was the most normal thing in the world, which made her smile also.

"I'm not the one struggling with the worst of it." She reminded, though she had got what Soul was really saying 'You can count on me' and she had answered with an 'I know', both of them implied messages under their actual words that only each other could understand.

They sat in silence, this time the one that only two people that fought together and trusted each other with their lives could share, sipping their tea quietly, not wanting to break that peaceful moment.

Probably more than fifteen minutes had gone by before Soul talked again.

"You should go get some sleep yourself." His answer was a drowsy "Huh?" before Maka got to her feet and stretched, probably thinking of a reply for staying awake. "My turn to clean" he offered, standing up and reaching for Maka's empty cup; and then he added: "Wake you up if anything happens."

"Fine, then." She replied, finally giving in. "Good night."

"G'night" with that, and a smile, Maka left to her room, closing the door quietly, while Soul washed the dishes.

It didn't even take five minutes for the house to be in complete silence again.

When he was done with the cups, Soul returned to his room. He glared at the table, where the Anatomy and Science books still laid open.

The bet didn't seem as important now, and Maka's bossy actions weren't so bothering either.

She was such a strong person, Maka. Being able to hide her own weariness for the sake of someone else was just one of the things she did. That bossy, commanding, direct and fearless girl was just one of her sides, in the other she was gentle, kind and caring as she ha just proved. He smiled. He was lucky to consider himself her friend.

Still, he was winning that bet nevertheless Maka's kindness, he was sure.

But now that he knew a part of what was going on in his own house, he would keep an eye on both Maka and Chrona, for supporting the first and extending a helping hand for the second.

After all, they were kind of a family now, if not just friends.

Thinking that, he finally allowed his mind to be drifted by sleep.


End file.
